


You Burn.

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Beta Read, Canon Divergent, Death, Ghosts, Heavy Angst, M/M, Past Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Itachi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Itachi never held guilt. It wasn’t a necessary emotion when it came to living as a shinobi. Guilt was like a disease.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Itachi
Kudos: 18





	You Burn.

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo ;w; divinethreat and i were talking aus and this glorious little piece became a reality.. uhh might write more of this au if yall enjoy?

_Hatake Kakashi is dead._

Itachi’s fingers itched. The blood was beginning to dry on them, sticky and thick. The cool water of the river soothed his skin as he washed the mess from his hands. His eye burned from the use of Tsukuyomi. He’d almost broken his mind, but Kakashi was more resilient than he let on. A kunai to his neck solved Itachi’s problems.

_Hatake Kakashi is dead._

ANBU had taught him to withhold emotion. To bury it in his proverbial backyard, and leave the grave unmarked. Kakashi didn’t even have the honor of being buried back in Konoha. Leaving his body in the mud seemed too barbaric for his former captain. Amaterasu took care of the remains. It was only fair. No one could take anything from him. His Sharingan was safe now, as part of the smoldering ash in the dirt.

Itachi ignored the part of his mind that reminded him he wouldn’t be able to look at the man while he buried him. Couldn’t look at him long enough to take the Sharingan from his socket, and keep it for his own. That emotion must have squirmed its way from the dirt, like a worm. He needed to step on it, and bury its head once more. But, it just seemed to keep coming back.

_Hatake Kakashi is dead._

Itachi never held guilt. It wasn’t a necessary emotion when it came to living as a shinobi. Guilt was like a disease. Maggots feeding on rancid flesh. It would eat at your wounds and consume you. He didn’t let his brain harbor that kind of power over him. He’d learned early on that letting your emotions have power over your actions could kill you.

His fingers twitched. The stem within his hands was soft, supple, yet strong. The lily he’d pulled from the weeds was a brilliant white. The juxtaposition of the white flower against the deep, black ashes on the ground almost seemed funny. Such a stark contrast. It was almost like art.. A horrible painting of respect for the man’s life. Kakashi of the Sharingan deserved better than an unmarked grave.

_Hatake Kakashi is dead._

The ANBU mask was hot on his face, so he’d taken it off as soon as they’d gotten to the safe house. Kakashi was roughly three years his senior, but treated him as an equal. The silver haired boy had been watching him speak, but he didn’t seem to be listening. Mismatched eyes followed his movements as he spoke. Itachi supposed it didn’t particularly matter. It wasn’t important information for Kakashi to absorb anyways.

“Want to get dinner?” he asked suddenly. Itachi was taken aback. His eyes looked startled, like a deer in the headlights. Was Kakashi flirting with him now? Was it a date? He took longer than necessary to respond, and his captain stiffened. Yes, it was flirting.

“Never mind,” Kakashi said, in a rushed voice. Itachi made a strangled, panicked sound, and his hand darted out to grab Kakashi’s. His hand was always so warm through the gloves. Warm hands, cold heart. But Kakashi, for all of his cold fronts and stormy dispositions, was as warm-hearted a person as you could get.

“I’d love to,” Itachi murmured, much to the surprise of his captain. Kakashi stopped trying to pull his hand away from Itachi’s, and instead allowed himself to bask in his warmth. 

_Hatake Kakashi is dead._

It was funny, how chakra seemed to linger the way it did. Itachi could feel it cling to his person. It was more staining than blood on clean clothes. The aftertaste of Kakashi’s violent death hung onto his clothes. He wondered how many washes it would take to relieve him of the scent. 

The shower didn’t help. Neither did the new clothes. He reeked of death, and the lingering scent of Kakashi. He left his robe draped over the desk chair. Fancy inn, he decided, as he gazed at the wooden desk. Stained dark cherry, and neatly polished to shine. He let his cloak rest over the back of the matching chair, and let a sigh bubble from his lips.

The bed was soft. Softer than Itachi believed that he deserved at the moment, but he wasn’t going to complain to the innkeeper about it. He nestled under the blankets, warm and inviting, and tried to shake the chill he’d felt since that afternoon. Closing his eyes felt like bliss, allowing his body to have the rest it so desperately craved from being on the run that day.

_Hatake Kakashi is dead._

Kakashi’s hands were so soft without the gloves. Rough calloused fingers, and the smooth skin of his palms. He cupped Itachi’s face, as the younger straddled his lap. Positioned above him, Itachi’s hair cascaded around the two of them. A curtain shielding them both from the rest of the world. A slice of heaven. A small corner of safety where nothing mattered.

Kakashi’s face was warm with a gentle smile. Itachi’s fingers curled over the edge of the mask, and tugged it down, until his face was uncovered. A thumb pressed to Kakashi’s lower lip, tugging at it softly. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. It was as if him speaking would ruin the illusion. That this wasn’t real. That Kakashi would be fake under his hands and he’d disappear as soon as a word was uttered from his lips.

They’d never see each other again, Itachi realized. Kakashi’s hand brushed Itachi’s hair behind his ear. He had work to do after this, and then he’d never be in the village ever again. He’d never see Kakashi again, unless it was on the battlefield. His mind was racing. Grief, guilt, desire, longing. He shut it up as he pressed his mouth to Kakashi’s in a burning kiss.

His lips were so soft. How could a man with so many sharp edges hide a mouth like this? Itachi felt special for just a moment. Kakashi was kissing him back. Out of all the men in the world, Kakashi had entrusted him like this. Itachi gripped his shoulders, and kissed him again, and again, and again. Until their lips were red and kiss bruised and wet.

_Hatake Kakashi was dead._

Pressure against his abdomen woke him. Itachi’s eyes snapped open, and he looked above him. Kakashi’s face was still covered, but the corners of his eyes were squinting with the smile that wasn’t being shown. His Sharingan burned red, bright even in the darkness of the room. His gaze was half lidded, almost seductive, as he watched the realization bloom on Itachi’s face.

“You’re dead,” he croaked. Kakashi let a low chuckle roll from his chest. He looked eerie in the moonlight shining in from the window. Silver hair looked white, and his eyes shone. He leaned forward, and Itachi caught a glimpse of the deep, ugly scarring across his neck. He tried to squirm away, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

“You would know,” Kakashi retorted, in a low, even tone that would have made him shiver if he weren’t so filled with abject horror. The copy ninja continued to lean forward, until their faces were too close for comfort. His eyes burned into Itachi’s. Was Kakashi going to kill him? _Not here, not now._

“I’m not going to kill you,” Kakashi purred. Cold fingers rested against Itachi’s cheek. He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud. His skin was smooth, and so, so cold.   
“I wouldn’t be so cruel as to take you from your mission,” he continued, in a tone that sounded sad and yet so, so angry. Itachi felt guilt spike through his chest.

The corners of his eyes pricked. And white hot tears spilled down his cheeks. The grief was finally setting in, now as Kakashi sat upon his hips, and spoke to him from beyond the grave. If it were genjutsu, it was powerful, and he couldn’t see the fine edge that denoted it as fake. The slight shimmer of the image that told him that it was an illusion.

This Kakashi was real. The undead ninja nuzzled into his cheek. And Itachi felt a shiver run through him at the attention. He felt lips through the mask brush against his cheekbone. He closed his eyes tight, and a fearful, sad sound left him. A strangled whimper. Grief. Kakashi chuckled low in his throat and the sound felt like velvet.

Hatake Kakashi was dead and he killed him in cold blood. His former friend. His almost lover. His crush. His mentor. His captain. He’d killed him. For no other reason, other than him being in his way. There was no sacred duty here. It was murder, in its purest form. If Itachi had sprouted claws and horns and sharp teeth, it wouldn’t have been an inaccurate portrayal. _Monster._

“You won’t ever be free of me now, Itachi,” Kakashi purred. Hands gripped his hair, and the mask was gone as he nuzzled his jaw. He felt the scrape of sharp teeth against his skin, and he shuddered. A soft, mourningful sound was dragged from his throat as Kakashi whispered.

“You’re mine forever now.”


End file.
